


in the blue dark

by notthequiettype



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthequiettype/pseuds/notthequiettype
Summary: Warped Tour 2005. Frank's wide awake. So is Mikey.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Mikey Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	in the blue dark

**Author's Note:**

> I have written thousands and thousands and _thousands_ of words of bandom since I got heavily back into it in... mid-2017? But, like most things in my life, I have been bad at actually _finishing_ anything. So, today, fueled by REUNION CONTENT, I sat down, picked a story that was almost done and got it the rest of the way there.

Frank's wide awake.

This doesn't happen to him usually. He's a good sleeper most of the time and when he does have trouble it's with the falling asleep part. He doesn't usually wake up suddenly in the middle of the night, startled and shaking, unable to remember the dream that got him there. 

He takes a couple of deep breaths and pushes his hair back from his sweaty face, listens to the familiar sounds of the bus around him, Bob's snoring and the weird snuffling noise Ray makes because he sleeps on his face. 

The bus isn't moving, so they must have made it to the venue lot and parked while he was still out. It's that weird late-night dark where everything is blue and gray and time seems meaningless.

It sounds like at least one of the Ways are awake, but he's not sure which. Their middle-of-the-night-shuffling sounds pretty much the same and their bunks are right on top of each other, so he can't quite parse it out.

He takes a few more deep breaths, the last tendrils of the dream uncurling from his chest, heartrate starting to steady, and sits up. He feels his phone vibrate where it's jammed down next to the mattress, so he reaches over and grabs it. 

_go to sleep_

Mikey it is then. _u go 2 sleep_

_trying_

Frank checks the time on the phone. It's almost four. _u get any at all?_

_sex or sleep_

Frank snorts. _if u n ray are hooking up, we need a band meeting_

_why not bob_

_too high maintenance_

_him or me?_

_u_

_harsh im extremely chill_

Frank rolls his eyes and drops his phone, rolls out of his bunk as quietly as he can, then moves over and leans down into Mikey's. Mikey looks up at him from his Sidekick and Frank jerks his chin. Mikey sighs and scoots over against the edge so Frank can climb in over him and tuck up against the wall. Mikey doesn't like to be boxed in.

Frank shifts until he's curled up against Mikey's side, head tucked into the curve of his neck as Mikey texts. "Do you just text people all night until someone responds?"

"Am I a wild animal?"

"I've heard some stories."

"I have weird friends who keep weird hours."

"So you know who's up?"

Mikey nods. "Or they text first."

"Did you sleep at all?"

Mikey shakes his head.

Frank waits until Mikey finishes the text he's writing, then grabs the phone and slides it shut, tucks it down behind in the same spot Frank puts his. "Try for me?"

Mikey sighs, but shifts down a little, fixes the blankets around him, moves the pillow around a little. "I don't need a babysitter."

Frank shifts to fit around Mikey again. "Good, I'm a really shitty one."

Frank listens to the bus noises again, the sense of home in it. This is their first tour on a bus and two weeks in it feels like they've been doing it forever already. He's not sure he should get used to it. "Are you and Pete… Really?" 

He can feel the face Mikey's making at him right now, even if he can't really see it. The way his eyebrow is arched, the tight, but amused set to his mouth. "Are you really asking me that," Mikey says.

"You're barely on the bus when it's not moving. I haven't talked to you for more than like, five seconds in a week."

Mikey laughs a little. "That's not true. I sat and ate like, half a sandwich with you two days ago."

"Yeah and spent the whole time texting."

Mikey tips his head so he can look up at Frank. "I'm not ignoring you on purpose."

"You just like Pete Wentz better."

Mikey curls his long fingers around Frank's wrist between their bodies. "I really don't."

Frank smiles, soft and fond. "But he's so _dreamy_."

Mikey jostles Frank's chin with his shoulder. "Shut up. We're just friends."

"Who definitely make out while drunk."

"Are you jealous?" Mikey says, squeezing Frank's wrist a little. Frank likes the pressure of it, the familiarity.

"Of some pop punk scene queen trying to steal my best friend?" Frank says, kind of snide and mean. "Yeah, kinda." It comes out softer than he intended.

Mikey laughs and turns into Frank a little, so he can look into Frank's eyes all soulfully like he does when he's drunk. "Pete Wentz is never going to replace you."

"Of course not, he doesn't play guitar."

Mikey rolls his eyes. "You know all my secrets. Can't risk swapping you out now."

Frank curls his fingers around Mikey's other wrist so they're making a circuit. "Is he a good kisser at least?" Frank's not even sure why he's needling at it, if he even cares.

Mikey shrugs. "We were drunk."

"Yeah, you're definitely not an expert at that." Frank grimaces and wonders if Mikey can even see it in the dim light.

"Hey," Mikey says, sort of tugging at Frank's arm.

"Sorry." Frank ducks his head, his forehead pressing to Mikey's chest under his chin. "I don't even know why I'm asking."

"Too much tongue," Mikey says, and Frank takes it as the forgiveness he knows Mikey means.

"Yeah?"

"Like... Twelve-year-old first kiss tongue."

"Were you fucking French kissing in sixth grade?"

Frank sees the flash of teeth when Mikey smiles. "Maybe."

"How are so many of the things people say about you _true_?"

"I'm a cryptid, not a myth."

"It annoys me so much that I've been around you and your brother long enough to understand that nuance."

Mikey chuckles. "Nuance." He settles deeper into his pillow, their hands still tangled up. "Don't worry about Pete."

"I'm not worried about Pete." Frank rubs his thumb against the knob of bone at Mikey's wrist. "I'm worried about you."

Mikey mimics the touch on Frank's wrist, the rhythm and pressure. It feels weirdly sexy, touching each other like that and Frank tries not to think about it too much. "You don't need to worry about me. Not with this."

"Okay."

"Pete's trouble, but not the big kind."

"Okay."

"Stop saying it like that."

"Like what." Frank likes that Mikey's touch hasn't faltered once, steady and even and weirdly electric.

"All. Suspicious."

Frank's breath is going a little ragged on him and it's stressing him out a little. It's not like he hasn't been into Mikey before, but he's also been this close to Mikey a million times and never felt like he had it this bad. Waking up in the middle of the night has to be bad for his brain. "Okay."

Mikey makes this low growling sound in his throat and his fingers go tighter on Frank's wrist. He doesn't stop touching though, the steady stroke of his thumb against Frank's skin feels so fucking intense Frank's afraid he's about to embarrass himself and start whining. "Quit it," Mikey says, finally, and Frank realizes his breathing doesn't sound particularly steady either.

"Quit what?"

"Not trusting me."

"I trust you." Frank squeezes Mikey's wrist a little. Mikey does whine then and it shoots straight to Frank's dick. "Holy shit."

"Shut up," Mikey says, but he still doesn't stop touching Frank, rhythmic and so fucking weirdly hot.

Frank laughs, touches his forehead to Mikey's. "Why is this fucking doing it for me?"

"Jesus, I don't know." Mikey's voice comes out low and hot across Frank's mouth. 

"We're both fucking wrist-fetish perverts?"

"Apparently." It comes out all breathless because Frank presses his ragged nails against Mikey's skin.

It's easy to lean in then and kiss Mikey. It's probably stupid too, but it's the middle of the night and he's willing to settle for easy and probably stupid when the reward is Mikey's soft, responsive mouth. Mikey kisses him back, the lack of hesitation in it making Frank feel overwhelmed and electric all over.

Frank pulls back to catch his breath, to maybe give a second of weight to the part where this is incredibly dumb, but Mikey makes this desperate noise in his throat and then his fingers are digging into the back of Frank's head, pulling their mouths back together and Frank's done worrying about it.

Frank's thought about kissing Mikey before, about how good Mikey would be at it, but the reality is better, unimaginably, soft and hot and somehow like sex in a way that Frank has never fucking experienced before.

Mikey wriggles his arm further under Frank until it's curling up around his ribs, fingers tracing them, his other hand still in Frank's hair, holding him there so he can kiss the living hell out of Frank. When he finally manages to pull back a little, just to catch his breath, Mikey moves his mouth to Frank's jaw and then his throat, alternating between long, pressing kisses, and dragging his teeth against the skin. Frank's entire body is hot and he shifts against Mikey, almost involuntarily, pressing himself against Mikey's side, his cock dragging against Mikey's hip.

Mikey pulls back from Frank's neck, crooked teeth sinking into his own bottom lip, a clear grin in the dim light. "Dude."

Frank feels dumber about the blush he feels going hot across his face than he does about Mikey giving him shit. "Fuck off."

Mikey does a remarkably negligible amount of wiggling, but somehow Frank ends up on top of him anyway, Mikey's thighs bracketing his, and their cocks pressed together through two layers of boxers. "I don't think you mean that."

Mikey puts his mouth back on Frank's neck as soon as he's done rearranging their position to his liking and Frank half-laughs and half-moans as Mikey's hands move up under his shirt. "You must think I'm really easy."

Mikey pulls back and tips his head up to look at Frank. "You got a raging boner because I had my fingers wrapped around your wrist. I don't think shit, I _know_."

Frank laughs and Mikey goes back to his neck, sinking his teeth in and sucking right when Frank is expecting him to go back to kissing. Frank hisses and grinds down against him and Mikey moves a hand up to cover Frank's mouth while he keeps working the skin over Frank's collarbone with his teeth. "This is dirty pool," Frank says quietly when Mikey's fingers go lax.

Mikey hmms a question against Frank's neck.

"You know, _Jesus_, all my, like" Frank bites his lip to keep from moaning when Mikey drags his nails down his side and then huffs, "things."

Mikey kisses his way up the underside of Frank's jaw, settling at the scorpion. "You think I need you to tell me what you like to be good at this?"

"No?" Frank doesn't really mean it to be a question.

Mikey laughs against his skin, slides his hands back up Frank's shirt. "There's not a single thing you've told me you like that I hadn't already imagined doing to you."

Frank braces himself on one elbow and grabs Mikey's jaw, jerks his chin up so he can get his mouth on Mikey's again. Mikey's shown his hand now and it's easier to press up against him, to kiss him with all the heat and feeling Frank's let come and go since they met. 

Mikey's mouth, his broad hands and long fingers, the way his skinny legs feel at Frank's hips, all of it is so fucking good.

Frank's reticence dissolves like it never even existed and he gets his hands all over Mikey, gets himself all over Mikey as much as he can in the confines of the bunk. Mikey doesn't seem to mind, just spreads his thighs and pulls Frank down against him, grinding their cocks together and kissing Frank hard to keep him from making too much noise. It's hot and frustrating and hot all over again because it's frustrating, trapped and halting.

Frank makes an irritated noise into Mikey's jaw and Mikey pets his hair, the back of his neck. "At least it's not the van."

Frank barely stifles the surprised laugh and bites down on the moan that follows it when Mikey pushes his hand under Frank's boxers, palming the wet head of Frank's cock. "Jesus, Mikey."

Mikey snorts a laugh into Frank's neck and then curls his fingers around Frank's cock, stroking down to the base with the kind of practiced ease that would probably intimidate Frank somehow if it weren't the blue dark of the middle of the night and if Frank weren't about a minute from coming. He looks down and Mikey's looking up at him, bottom lip caught in his teeth, and Frank feels his breath rush out of him all at once. Mikey's mouth is red-red even in the dim light and his eyes are dilated, a deep flush disappearing into the collar of his ratty shirt. He looks fucking amazing and Frank wants to keep him trapped in this miserable tiny cubby for possibly forever.

Frank shifts so he can brace his weight to one side and then gets his hand in Mikey's boxers, Mikey making a surprised sound that makes Frank's cock pulse in Mikey's fingers, and then they're kissing and kissing, hands moving, and Frank's shocked at how easy they set a rhythm. He shouldn't be, he realizes, they make music together every fucking day, but he can't exactly blame his brain for failing him at the moment, not when Mikey's making these low, throaty moans and his hips are jerking, pushing his thick cock into Frank's hand. 

It's _so good_. Frank can't fucking believe how good it is. There's no fucking way getting a handjob normally feels this good, giving one: definitely not, but his cock pulses every time he jerks Mikey's and _god_, Frank feels young and stupid and incredible.

Frank's not expecting the giggle to hit him so hard. He usually has a warning, a surge of feeling right before the sound hits, but he can't exactly blame his systems for not being completely online. 

Mikey's mouth is pressed to his when it hits and it stifles most of the sound. Frank jerks his head to the side and presses it into Mikey's neck to mask the next one. Mikey goes still, his fingers still curled around Frank's cock in his boxers, and sighs. "Really?"

Frank giggles into Mikey's neck again, an undignified snorting noise trailing it. "Sorry." 

Mikey presses his mouth to Frank's again, licking at his bottom lip. Frank groans and Mikey strokes him, slow and firm, and murmurs against his mouth, "I can't say I've ever been laughed at during sex before."

Frank giggles again, presses himself against Mikey in apology. The "Not _at_ you" he adds is a little undercut by him giggling again, but Mikey just strokes him harder, the rhythm of it suddenly intense. Frank can _feel_ Mikey focusing and he's not sure he's going to be able to look at him on stage for a while because the energy is so fucking similar.

Frank knows he's going to come, hard and soon, and just does his best to keep up, to not let Mikey fall behind, curling his fingers tighter around Mikey's cock and trying to memorize the feel of it, the noises Mikey's making, low and hot and just for him.

Mikey's cock feels so good in his hand and Mikey's hand on Frank's cock is going to kill him, Frank thinks, and then Frank's whining and Mikey's grazing teeth at his jaw and says, "Come on, Frankie," and Frank absolutely loses it, hips jerking his cock into Mikey's hand, spilling against his palm and wrist. Mikey just strokes him through it, presses his mouth all over Frank's jaw and neck, kisses Frank's panting mouth.

"Jesus, Mikey Way." Mikey laughs soft against his neck, hips rolling, pushing his cock against Frank's hand. Frank laughs too, exhausted and happy, curls his fingers around Mikey and starts to stroke him again. "So impatient."

Mikey whines a little, head falling back, his long, pale neck so fucking inviting Frank's breath catches before he puts his mouth there, his teeth. Mikey arches into it and Frank sures up his grip on Mikey's cock, strokes slow, a little teasing. He wants to hear Mikey whine again, beg for it maybe. He can't imagine Mikey begging. "You ever beg for sex?"

Mikey snorts, the end of it caught in a gasp as Frank's fingers rub at the head of his cock. "Never."

Frank hmms and slows his strokes down even more, keeping his grip even. Mikey's so fucking hard in his hand and he knows he's got to be close to coming. "Feel like you could?"

Mikey shrugs, half-rolling his eyes in the dim light. How he can manage to look unaffected in the middle of sex is a sort of infuriating mystery to Frank. He slows down even more, lets his calluses drag a little, watches the way Mikey's mouth drops open on a loud breath. He drags his mouth against Mikey's neck, down into the stretched-out collar of his Bauhaus shirt, and presses his teeth against the curve of his collarbone. Mikey's breath goes shuddery and his cock leaks against Frank's fingers. 

"You're so fucking hot." He circles the head of Mikey's cock with his thumb, slow slow slow, and then rubs at the slit before he closes his fist and strokes all the way down again. "Can't fucking wait to see you come."

Mikey actually whines, high and louder than he probably should, and it makes Frank feel like he deserves an award. He thinks he understands a little bit more why people throw themselves at Mikey, desperate for his attention, his approval; earning it makes you feel invincible. "You could make that happen," Mikey says, rolling his hips.

Frank grins, speeds his fist up, mouths at Mikey's jaw, kisses a moan out of Mikey's mouth, and then just as Mikey's back arches a little, his head dropping back, Frank slows down again, barely touching him, Mikey's cock almost throbbing in his fingers. "Could I?"

Frank watches Mikey's Adam's apple bob as he swallows, breath loud through his nose. He nods. "Any time now."

Frank drags his fingertips from base to tip, watches the way Mikey goes a little shivery. "Just have to ask, Mikey Way."

"You don't want me to ask, you want me to beg."

"I get the feeling that you've never even _asked_ to come. Victory's victory."

Mikey laughs, breathy and close to the skin of Frank's neck. He curls his fingers into Frank's hair and pulls him into a kiss, rough and wet and unbelievably hot. Frank feels hot and sensitive all over. It feels like it's been seconds since he came, an hour, time gone all stretchy and indistinct in the close dark of Mikey's bunk. Mikey's nails drag over Frank's scalp and he almost keens with how good it feels. "Make me come, Frankie."

Frank's fingers curl tight and in a dozen strokes Mikey's shaking under him, pulsing into his fist and making the most amazing mess Frank's been party to in a while. He pulls Frank down and kisses him through it, makes a couple of soft noises against Frank's mouth that make Frank's cock give another respectable effort at a second round.

Frank pulls his hand out of Mike's boxers, half-wiping it on the way, collapses against him, still between his thighs, and rubs his face all over Mikey's chest. "Don't think I didn't notice that wasn't asking."

Mikey laughs, pets at Frank's side. Frank can feel how sleepy he is, his whole body lax under him. "I couldn't let you break a record on your first try."

Frank laughs then jerks his head back to look at Mikey. "Did you just wipe jizz all over my side?"

Mikey shakes his head. "No."

Frank starts to relax and then jerks back again. "Did you put it in my _hair_?"

Mikey rolls his eyes and shoves a tshirt at him. "I'm not that mean."

"You keep a come rag in your bunk?" Frank wipes his hand on it anyway, giggling stupidly and trying to stifle it. Mikey takes it back from him and shoves it between the wall and the mattress and Frank groans. "So gross, Mikey Way."

Mikey hmms and goes back to petting Frank's side, so Frank settles against him again. "You going to sleep?"

Mikey nods against him. Frank kisses his cheek. "Going to fall asleep on top of you."

Mikey hmms again, his broad hand still rhythmic against Frank's ribs, so Frank takes that as an invitation to stay. He's asleep between one pass of Mikey's hand on him and the next.


End file.
